And We Will Never Be Whole Again
by Wishful Dreaming
Summary: And Juliet thinks she finally, finally, understands what the word bittersweet means.
1. So it Begins

**And We Will Never Be Whole Again**

**Disclaimer: **Um… supposedly I don't own Psych or any of the characters in it. Not yet, at least, [insert evil laugh].

**Summary:** This is how it ends...this is the only way it could end.

**Notes: **So I've got most of this written already so updates shouldn't be a problem until at least the 30th chapter (yeah it's long). I figured this fandom could use a little more apocalyptic fic. I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to you. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again  
Anyway, hope you like it!

**Chapter 1: So it Begins:**

_"I love the zombie apocalypse because it means that you are free. Freedom is not the same as safety, but you walk with fewer hands in your pocket not as many television words in your ears. I'd like to say, I want you to be there with me. I'd like to but,they will come and in all likelihood, we will not remain. We are prime candidates for gnawed intestines, unlocked doors and large windows— love how they let in the light, hate how they let in the flesh eating abominations— in all likelihood our bones will snap under grinding maddened teeth..."_

_**-KEVIN DEVANEY**_

"Shawn! God, leave it! Get in the car, now!" Juliet screams at him from the car.

The note of hysteria is obvious enough, especially to Shawn, even now in the midst of all this… this madness.

So instead of taking the extra couple of steps back to grab his phone he dropped on the ground, he runs for the car.

Juliet presses down on the gas before he's even closed the door behind him.

"Ungh. Spencer?"

"It's going to be alright, Lassiter. Just hold on," Shawn whispers, his throat closed up, moving Lassiter's hands off his wound to replace them with his own.

"I know. I'm fine, I'm fine."

He's saying it around gritted teeth though, hands trembling, face too pale.

He can hear Juliet breathing noisily through her nose; knows she too is trying not to breakdown.

He whispers again, soft words to Lassiter. He wants to scream though, just scream and scream until he can't speak and his throat is bleeding.

It used to be such a joke, a game. Gus and him planning it out since they were young children. But Gus is gone, gone, gone, gone. His dad probably too but he doesn't actually know, just has to assume. Lassiter, he can't be Carlton, it's too much of an acknowledgement of everything that is so, so wrong, bleeds onto the car seats, his head on Shawn's shoulder.

Juliet, at least; thank god, and him are untouched and that, that's a miracle. And it will be a consolation later, in a way, that they have each other still, but right now he can't think past _Gus, dad, Gus, Gus, Gus, dad, dad. _

A mile away, already now, his phone lies in the grass in front of his and Juliet's modest home. The screen glows still showing the date, _2:13 a.m. March 13, 2015. _The date the zombie apocalypse arrives in Santa Barbara.


	2. If I Could Save Just One

And We Will Never Be Whole Again

**Disclaimer: **Um… supposedly I don't own Psych or any of the characters in it. Not yet, at least, [insert evil laugh].

**Summary:** This is how it ends...this is the only way it could end.

**Notes: **Yay, update! Listen to /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again on 8tracks to get the full experience. Hope everyone's liking it! Let me know 'cause it'll make me happy.

Chapter 2: If I Could Save Just One, Maybe That Would Save Me

...W_hen the backup brigade, former yakuza katana wielding badasses shows up a second too late, you bitten, me carried by Kevlar hands back to an ambulance turned sanitation van. Even if they get there on time, get both of us back to the van, bite free, safe for a second until the zombos clutching hands find the pins out of their grenades, and the explosion tosses the van on its side a tin can, rolling through the bad part of Z-ville a roulette of newly found death sentences..._

_**-KEVIN DEVANEY**_

Gus was torn apart, eaten alive before his eyes. There is no amount of time or distance that will ever erase that memory.

They're flying down a road that used to have a speed limit of 45, not stopping for anyone. The plan is to follow the GPS to an out of the city hospital and try to patch Lassiter up.

And really that has to be some joke too, that it's Lassiter here with them and that he's bleeding out not from a bite but a gunshot. It was accidental, some rookie fired in the chaos. Juliet, _god Juliet, _managed to get them both out of there and came to pick him up. Shawn was camped out on the roof, of their house, their new house, barely even done unpacking.

Shawn still _sees everything, remembers everything. _

It has never been more of a curse than it is now.

* * *

It takes two extra hours after they get there to get Lassiter any medical attention. The place is swarming with desperate, sobbing people and five doctors. It's almost surprisingly organized though. As much as any hospital really ever is. They've got people with guns at the parking lot and doors keeping bitten people and zombies out. It takes a while to convince them that the slick blood seemingly everywhere is from a gun shot wound and even longer waiting for any of the doctors to treat Lassiter. Inside the white washed, antispetic walls it's business as usual.

Really they're lucky that in the end, although it tore a piece of his side, it's just a flesh wound, just a graze actually.

The lady who sews Lassiter up gives them some drugs and bandages too. There are dried tear tracks on her face but the fierce expression and tense set of her shoulders negates that. Not that three of them aren't a second away from blubbering.

Lassiter, thank god, passed out when she began cleaning the wound. She tells them that they can stay only until he wakes up, that besides the blood loss, he'll be fine, that the most important thing now is making sure that he doesn't succumb to shock or pull the stitches. The dead are like sharks she says attracted by the sense of blood, of weakness.

She looks at them first, their blood soaked bodies, Gus', Carlton's, people they've worked with everyday for almost a decade, pointedly.

Juliet, still, always, a cop, a protector, looks around the hospital at all the blood, dying, and weakness, then at their doctor.

She smiles then, really does, not grim or fake. She's proud, Shawn will later realize. "I fully expect to die here."

She walks away, already focused on another injured person.

Juliet thinks about the gun on her hip and Lassiter's, the one stuffed into the back of Shawn's pants, the other's stowed away in Lassiter's car. Thinks about the armory back at the station, knows they are going to have to go back.

Thinks that everybody has their purpose in this new world.


	3. The People We Have Become

And We Will Never Be Whole Again

**Disclaimer: **Um… supposedly I don't own Psych or any of the characters in it. Not yet, at least, [insert evil laugh].

**Summary: **This, this is it. The beginning and end of everything. She has her arms wrapped around both of them. She can feel the tremors running through Shawn and Carlton's rubbing her back in slow circles.

And Juliet thinks she finally, finally, understands what the word bittersweet means.

**Notes: **So I've got most of this written already so updates shouldn't be a problem until at least the 30th chapter (yeah it's long). I figured this fandom could use a little more apocalyptic fic. I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to you. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again. YAY PLAYLIST!  
Anyway, hope you like it.

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, liking, and following!

_I cannot think of a way I'd like to see you die, but I know, if I had my choice, it wouldn't involve chewing or bodily mutilation because I really like you. I know it's a strange way to say I love you, but if you got bit, I would shotgun you in the face. It's nothing personal, it's just how we survive around here. If you got bit, you'd smell like blood these things aren't unlike sharks the hordes you'd attract would be monstrous and in all likelihood you'd get eviscerated by starving zombies, and in all likelihood that'd mean chewing and bodily mutilation, but love has never been a child of likelihood, I know we will both die in time._

_**KEVIN DEVANEY**_

Chapter 3: The Gap Between the People We Were and the People We Have Become

Juliet drives again. Shawn knows she's worried about the too obvious tremble in his hands and the way he can't stop gagging every now and then.

"We need a Wal-Mart or some buy-in-bulk store, somewhere with bathrooms, clothes, and a lot stocked food," he offers quietly.

"Here," she tosses him the GPS, "find what we need."

She drives.

She does not think about the fact that her parents and two brothers stopped answering her calls two weeks ago. She does not think about the fact that she knows why they stopped now. She does not hope that Ewan, at least, is still alive.

Juliet just drives.

She thinks that having a detective's mind, or Shawn's mind, has never been such a curse as it is now.

* * *

Lassiter thinks that he never would have chosen to be partnered with Shawn in the event of the apocalypse. Which now that he's actually living through an apocalypse, he realizes is stupid. _Living through an apocalypse. _

Spencer is an excellent shot, astoundingly intelligent, and stupidly brave. Just because Carlton won't say it out loud doesn't mean he's unaware. All of that more than makes up for his crazy antics.

Of course, there are no crazy antics.

Not even a poor, fake attempt at humor.

Lassiter glances over at Spencer, it's not subtle but he doesn't need to be; Spencer is staring at the door to the employee's bathroom with a single-minded focus, gun held deceptively loose in his lap. There's still a garish smudge of blood across his cheek, Carlton wonders absently if it's his or Gus' blood. And that's a too weird thought, his blood all over Shawn.

Shawn, who is too pale and-gaunt. It's really only been a day now, how does someone look gaunt after a day? Lassiter is the one with thirteen stitches in his side.

No, Lassiter thinks that there might never be any more humor from the man beside him.

The store has one small shower stall in the employee's bathroom. Juliet is out in the store choosing them all a change of clothes while Shawn and him sit here.

Shawn was very obviously reluctant to let her leave his sight but whatever she said to him worked. Lassiter knows that if they lose her, he'll undoubtedly lose Shawn as well; they might still lose Shawn.

He remembers too the hollow sound of Juliet's voice, even through his haze of pain, after she got off the phone with Shawn when they were pealing away from station.

He remembers the tense set of her jaw that meant she was grinding her teeth into dust, even through the constant litany of _zombies, zombies, zombies, zombies. _

"Gus is dead," She said. _Gus is dead._

And Lassiter understands, Gus is their linchpin. _Was, was, was. _


	4. I Found Family in Your Eyes

**And We Will Never Be Whole Again**

**Disclaimer: **Um… supposedly I don't own Psych or any of the characters in it. Not yet, at least, [insert evil laugh].

**Summary: **This, this is it. The beginning and end of everything. She has her arms wrapped around both of them. She can feel the tremors running through Shawn and Carlton's rubbing her back in slow circles.

And Juliet thinks she finally, finally, understands what the word bittersweet means.

**Story Notes: **I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to you. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again. YAY PLAYLIST!  
Anyway, hope you like it.

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

Also, PLEASE don't hate me about Marlowe; I wrote the majority of this before she was really a character and I am too lazy to try to add or change anything now that's she in the show and awesome. Sorry!

_I know we will both die in time. I still can't think of a way I'd like to see you go, but I can think of this:_

_We build a tree house, way out in the middle of the woods. Every morning, we eat the nutrition bars we stole from the grocery store after no one owned the grocery store. You teach me yoga, we both lift weights, because being agile and strong are important now. One morning we decide, if we're to fight off the zombie apocalypse, we should probably know how to fire a gun._

_**-KEVIN DEVANEY**_

Chapter Four: I Found Family in Your Eyes When I Had Nothing

After they each take a shower, change clothes, and eat a meal of the assortment of perishable food Juliet took the time to grab, Lassiter falls asleep. Juliet and Shawn decide to take turns guarding the door and sleeping.

Tomorrow, they will make plans and worry but tonight, tonight they mourn.

* * *

Lassiter wakes up with a sudden lurch, the searing, ripping pain follows immediately, freezing him up with a choking gasp.

Spencer is beside him, in a moment, hands fluttering, murmuring things Carlton can't decipher through the dizzying pain. He's eased back onto the cold ground, gentle and slow.

"You can't move fast like that, ok, ok, ok?" Shawn whispers, reaching for the hem of Lassiter's shirt, "I just need to make sure you didn't pull any of them."

Lassiter does his best to grit out something that's supposed to sound like "Go ahead."

Shawn scrutinizes the garish black stitching carefully before fixing his shirt. His fingers hover just above the wound, tremoring. "Looks ok. They're all still there and it looks clean, not infected. It's probably just the loss of adrenaline and shock that's making it worse."

He wants to say that he still has plenty of adrenaline, nerves humming with it, and that he's definitely still in shock.

"Blood loss too. Hold on," Shawn says, stepping away.

He's back in a second holding out a couple slices of bread from last night and a candy bar.

"Carbs and sugar. When you eat that, we have Ibuprofen too."

Shawn sits down beside him, silent and that is too, too _wrong. _Carlton wishes he would say something stupid, fidget and flail maybe, or call him Lassie.

He's done with the chocolate and one of the bread slices when Spencer finally speaks.

"Can I use your phone?" He sounds hesitant, like he really thinks Carlton will say no. "It's just that neither Juliet or I have ours and I need to try my dad and mom again." He's gritting his teeth now and won't look at Lassiter.

"Yeah, of course," he breathes, "It's in my pants pocket over there."

A soft thanks and he's gone. Carlton wonders if he should call someone, thinks there should be someone. His parents have both been dead for a couple years now. Victoria and he haven't spoken in nearly six years and hated each other for the two before that. He doubts the number he has for her is even right. Marlowe, of course, but the prison was overrun from the inside out, all of them trapped in that small space. Plus, she doesn't have a phone or a number he could even call but if she did survive and if she gets a phone, she has his number. But that's too many _if_s for him.

He has never been a man to hold onto hope.

The truth, he realizes, is the first people he would have called are with him right now, Juliet, Shawn, Gus. He briefly debates when it was they came to mean so much to him, when they wormed their way into his life, his heart.

It's quickly overwhelmed by the wave of gratitude, of relief, of momentary peace because except for Gus, they are here safe and alive with him.

Lassiter thinks that he will have to step up to the plate Gus left him, protect and cheer up these two precious people. He wonders if Shawn has already tried calling Gus' family, his siblings and parents. Who is still left in this new, awful, awful world?

Especially when he can hear the sound of an automated voice telling Spencer that the number he has dialed has been disconnected and then watching as the call to his mother just rings and rings and rings. He doesn't leave a voicemail, features crumbled.

He hands the phone back without a word.

Carlton is guiltily relieved when Juliet chooses that moment to wake up and wrap her arms around Shawn. They stay still like that, tangled with each other for a long moment. Lassiter focuses on his piece of bread.

"How are your stitches?" Juliet asks him, some kind of pathetic attempt at a smile on her face.

"Can't complain."

"They're all alright. I checked. Gave him some food and the ibuprofen, too," Shawn steps in for him when Juliet glares at his answer.

Juliet frowns even as she says, "Ok."

Turning back to Shawn, she tries, "You should try to sleep again. You've been awake for over 48 hours now."

"Can't," Shawn whispers, and Lassiter thinks he wasn't supposed to hear that. They stare at each other, like they're actually holding a silent conversation.

"Fine. If we're all up then, we can work on a plan."

"We need to work quickly before other people start venturing out of wherever they're hunkered down. The first places to be hit will be the stores and the precinct for the guns and we have to have cleaned both out first."

"Right. We have to take Lassiter's injury into account though."

"He'll stay up here while we pack the car with as much as we can fit. I still don't hear anyone else in here. The car is already pretty much against the front door and we have each other's backs. Lassiter is still Lassiter. Stitches or not, he can still shoot anyone who tries to get in here," Shawn explains, glancing at Lassiter for confirmation.

"You've got it all planned out already, don't you?" Lassiter says. It doesn't sound hostile, like it would've only a couple of days ago.

Shawn nods slowly, brows furrowed, like he understands that there's more to that question than what was said. Lassiter doesn't think he would be able to explain if Shawn asks; he just has the sudden feeling that he's figured something out about Spencer that he should known a long time ago.

Instead he says, "You should have an extra person out there with you. I can have your backs."

He watches as Juliet and Shawn share a too quick glance before Juliet speaks up, "It'd be better if you stay here while we pack. The faster you heal, the safer we all are."

This time he nods, "Got it."

He decides it's best not to tell them, admit to them, that he fears they will leave him here. Him, weak, injured, vulnerable, handicapped, a liability. It's natural selection, after all, right?

He has never been a man to hold onto hope or trust.


	5. The Emotion That Crawled Up My Throat

**And We Will Never Be Whole Again**

**Disclaimer: **Um… supposedly I don't own Psych or any of the characters in it. Not yet, at least, [insert evil laugh].

**Chapter Notes: **I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to you. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again. YAY PLAYLIST!  
Anyway, hope you like it.

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

_So it's during our first daylight raid of the shooting range that we realize loud noises, like gunfire, attract zeek, zed and zoe,_

_the place goes dark because the windows are all hands._

_Then, from the sky the katana wielding badasses' helicopter hits the roof, no grenades no pins, cause they're not amateurs, air lifts us to the top of Devil's Tower where, despite guard posts and razor wire, society has remembered itself. What is had is given. _

_We would grow as old as our bodies would let us; your hair would go white and it would be beautiful. One day you would pass. I cannot know the sadness of that day, but I know this:_

_this is a future we could walk to if the undead weren't grating at our options with their teeth and palms and certain doom. This is a fate that no one, dead or otherwise, could swallow for us._

_**-KEVIN DEVANEY**_

Chapter 5: The Emotion That Crawled Up My Throat and Smothered Me

Shawn tucks the gun into the back of pants. He both hates and loves the feel of it. The protection and security it offers him, the thin film covering the depth of his despair and hopelessness, contrasted by the heavy lethality, the wrongness, the reality, of it, the reminder.

None of this feels real, _a game, a joke, pretend, _despite the evidence all around him. And his mind has always been able to discern reality from all of the fake this world produces.

"Okay, Anything and everything canned, as many water bottles as we can fit, and we're going to clean out their health and medicine aisles. After that, we can see about what, if any, perishables we want," Shawn whispers, listening and looking for any disturbances.

"Shawn," Juliet replies gently, pleadingly maybe.

He knew, in the back of his mind, how uncomfortable this Shawn made her. The one without all the jokes, the Shawn that had a single-minded focus, the one that used his gifts like a weapon. It's a jolting realization that this is the man his father had wanted him to become.

"Jules, I-I-"

"It's alright. I love you, okay?" Juliet interrupts, hands on either side of his face, forcing him to make eye contact.

"Love you too," he presses sincerely, before turning away, "I'll grab the first box, and you have my back."

"Always."

Shawn bends down to pick up the large package of Campbell Soups from the aisles' shelf.

An hour later, they're loading packages of water bottles carefully in with all the canned food, like it's a game of Tetris.

Canned soup, canned Chef Boyardee, canned meat, canned vegetables, and at least 30 jars of peanut butter. They clean out the snack aisles too, all of the chips, cookies, pop tarts, and granola bars.

"You want to do this, to go back to the station, the armory, to help people, right?"

Shawn asks suddenly, breaking the tense silence.

They were just barely outside, on the periphery of the door; the parking lot and the little of the street they could see was empty. The guns, however, as they would always be now, were close at hand, Juliet's in her holster, Shawn's in his hand. It's late afternoon and the sun is blindingly fierce; at odds with the gray, rainy atmosphere Shawn had always associated the end of the world with.

Juliet pauses now and just looks at him. He thinks maybe that she is disappointed.

"We'd have to go for the guns, ammo, anyway."

"But that's not why were going," Shawn prods.

"What do you want me to say? We both know each other's opinions. We could protect people, Shawn, the three of us are all fighters, excellent shots. We could even teach others. It's our moral obligation," Juliet whispers harshly, "You heard that doctor she's going to stay there saving who she can until they come for her."

"Our job is to look out for each other, just the three of us," Shawn hisses back. He is so very afraid.

"Shawn, I know-" She cuts herself off the moment she sees Shawn's entire body tense.

"Duck!" It's a harsh, swift command. Even Shawn knows it sounds nothing like him. Juliet drops down immediately, instinctively, though. Her gun in her hand before she's even aware. Shawn shoots twice at something behind her.

"It's dead," Shawn says hollow, distant. He doesn't lower the gun, hands clenching and unclenching, swiveling around, making sure they're alone again. Juliet stands slowly turning to look at the _zombie_ Shawn shot.

He knows what she will see.

_It_ looks like it was once a girl of about 15; hard to tell now with the gash in her stomach and disturbing gray pallor of her skin. The two bullet holes in her forehead make it difficult as well.

Shawn turns, beside Juliet, and stares again at _her_, _it_. He clenches his jaw and ignores the tremor in his hands.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll go back and help them. You're right."

She doesn't really respond to his admittance and he has to assume it's a sort of forgiveness. Instead she shoves at him with one hand, shutting the car's trunk with the other.

"Come on, we need to get back inside. We don't know if there are more close by or if they're attracted to sound. We'll pack the medical supplies later."

* * *

Juliet stares out the window of the store, gaze searching.

"Hey, Are you both okay!?"

Juliet whirls around. Of course, of course, Lassiter had heard the gun shot. She hadn't even thought of that.

He's pale, leaning heavily against the wall, the fear and desperation clearly evident on his face in a way it had never been when they were just cops.

"Yeah, yeah we're both good. It was just one and it's dead," Juliet answers, moving towards him.

He had managed to drag himself off the floor and all the way to the front of the store to find them, because he heard the gunshot. Juliet felt a wave of sentiment for the gruff man, who always tried to claim a lack of feelings.

"Good, good," he breathes, "I was-worried about you two." The pause before the admittance is barely noticeable.

Juliet wraps her arms, gently, barely touching, around him.

She thinks that it would take a zombie apocalypse for Lassiter to start expressing his emotions. She thinks that she is proud of this man and grateful, grateful that he is still here, that Shawn is still here.

And Shawn is suddenly there by their sides, also patting Lassiter, reassuring each other.

And Juliet thinks she finally, _finally, _understands what the word _bittersweet _means.

"Come on, let's get you back into the room," she says, soft.

Juliet takes up one side of Lassiter and Shawn takes the other.


	6. In This Silence We Could Not Hide

**And We Will Never Be Whole Again**

**Summary:** This is how it ends...this is the only way it could end.

**Author Notes: **I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to you. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again. YAY PLAYLIST!  
Anyway, hope you like it.

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

_"When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?"_

_-Chuck Palahnuik, Invisible Monsters_

Chapter 6: In This Silence We Could Not Hide  


Later, when the sun is setting and they've all eaten a couple of pieces of bread and candy bars, Juliet and Shawn go back out to pack all the medical supplies.

Lassiter feels a lot better, like he can actually imagine being completely healthy at some point.

He's sitting up, at least, now and as long as he doesn't move or breathe too deeply, everything's good. He stares at his feet for a while thinking, decides that thinking goes nowhere he's interested in.

A half hour later, he realizes he is bored, very bored. This is the stuff that isn't in the books, movies, TV shows, the hours, days spent doing nothing, staring at your feet, as time slowly ticks by, relentless.

No music, no TV, no games, no jokes, barely any company.

Another thirty minutes pass by before Shawn and Juliet return.

"Car's packed with everything we could possibly fit. We'll leave in the morning," Juliet tells him, sitting close on the ground.

"Look at what we brought?" Shawn announces, locking the door behind them.

He's got two big, probably once upon a time expensive bottles of alcohol and Juliet's carrying two cartoons of ice cream.

Lassiter opens his mouth to say that it's probably not the best idea for them to be drinking, letting down their guard. Feels like maybe he needs to be the responsible one here, because the truth is Juliet and Shawn are still so young sometimes.

Juliet is staring pointedly at him though and very slightly shakes her head. And he understands, they are not young anymore.

There are three doors between them and the undead anyway.

They end up playing never have I ever, each of them being careful to keep everything light-hearted.

Their laughter is soft and mostly fake, but they are safe for a moment, warm, full of alcohol and ice cream, with people they love. Sleep comes easy this night, due to the alcohol and the ever present gnawing exhaustion all three feel.

Outside the world continues to fall apart.

* * *

Shawn takes the first watch. Wakes her six hours later that feel more like two.

She watches Shawn try to fight sleep for a while before he inevitably passes out. Lassiter sleeps so completely still she worries once that he's died.

Juliet turns away from them to the door and tries not to think of her family in the silence. She wishes somebody had told her how silent it was going to be, like you've entered a soundless vacuum where silence becomes a roaring thing, tangible.

* * *

Shawn wakes with a sudden jerk and startle. Lassiter is softly snoring, snuffling to his left and to his right, Juliet is sitting up, awake by the door.

"You've barely been asleep for two hours. Go back to sleep, Shawn. This isn't healthy or safe," Juliet speaks into the silence, reprimanding, trying to guilt him into it.

She must know though, she must know that demanding is always the wrong way to deal with him. Even now, he can't stamp down the stubborn insolence that rises, rises, like his quickening pulse.

"I'm fine."

He scoots up next her, leaning against the wall, and kisses her cheek. Thinks maybe he will throw a couple of jokes around, flirt a little like nothing's changed. He quits before he even tries though, his dream still dancing at the edges of his vision. _What's the point? What's the point?_

"Do you think we'll be ok?" Juliet asks after several silent minutes. He's not sure she's even talking to him truthfully.

And he wishes she hadn't asked because suddenly the fog he's been living in breaks and anger comes flooding out, raw and scared. He wants to yell, to ask, to beg, _How is this supposed to end? What do you mean by okay? _All he can see are graves, and dead flesh, empty eyes, and snapping mouths, the steady drip of blood.

"I don't know, Jules. I don't know."

She doesn't respond and he knows she must have known the answer to her question already. He's not the only one who saw someone torn apart. Had she wanted him to lie to her?

Minutes later, she's asleep on his shoulder.

He is left alone to the quiet.

It eats him alive.


	7. We Accidentally Read the Last Page

**And We Will Never Be Whole Again**

**Summary: **This is how it ends.

**Author's Notes: **I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to you. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again. YAY PLAYLIST!  
Anyway, hope you like it.

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

Also, **WARNING!-mention of panic attack and panic attack almost occurs**

_There is no escape,_  
_ From the slave-catchers' songs._  
_ For all of the loved ones gone._  
_ Forever's not so long._  
_ And in your soul,_  
_ They poked a million holes._  
_ But you never lett 'em show._  
_ C'mon it's time to go._

_ And_  
_ You_  
_ Already know._  
_ Yeah, you already know_  
_ How this will end._

_ And _  
_ You _  
_ Already know._  
_ Yeah, you already know_  
_ How this will end._

_How this will end. _

**-How it Ends, Devotchka**

Chapter 7: We Accidentally Read the Last Page and Now We've Lost All Hope  


Lassiter wakes slowly to the soft murmur of voices. His side feels stretched, tight, a burning when he moves. Sleep pulls at him, tries to bury him in false warmth even here on the cool, tiled bathroom floor.

He aches foolishly, ridiculously for a large, hot cup of jolting coffee.

He sits up slowly instead, with a small grunt that shuts Shawn and Juliet up fast.

"Carlton, hold on. Let me help you up," Juliet is suddenly right beside him hands on his arms.

"I've got it, O'Hara," he says gruffly.

"Stubborn bastard," she mumbles. All he wants to do is laugh because it's exactly what she would've said days ago and its suddenly such a relief that his partner is still here with him.

When he's finally standing up right beside them, he notices the grim line Shawn's mouth is in, a face Lassiter never would've imagined the young man could make until two days ago, and the nervous twitch of Juliet's hands.

"Nothing-"

"There are at least 11…" Shawn pauses like even he can't believe he's about to say this, "zombies out there. Some are feeding on the one we killed yesterday and the others are trying to get in the car." He shifts again frustrated, eyes skipping around like he's fighting to focus and losing, then he continues.

"Which isn't a problem, we can kill them. We just want to be careful with ammunition since we don't know what to expect when we get to the precinct."

"I have a couple of extra boxes of ammunition in the glove box," Lassiter offers.

"See. I told you he would," Juliet says, "We'll be fine."

Lassiter can't help feeling like he missed the point of this conversation.

"Fine," Shawn scoffs, pulling open the door to their sanctuary and stalking out.

Juliet shakes her head at him when Lassiter tries to ask what's going on.

"Come on," Juliet urges, supporting Lassiter still as they follow after Shawn, "Before he does something stupid."

They walk in tense silence for a moment through the aisles of pet food until Juliet breaks it, bitterness lacing her words, "Anyway I figured you would prefer this version of Shawn."

"Juliet, you know-" he can't say that immature, goofing off, over-the-top Spencer was something he enjoyed but- "this, this isn't even Shawn. This isn't what I wanted. And you know I've never _hated_ him, not even in the beginning."

O'Hara's shoulders slump and she sighs, "I know, Carlton. Sorry, I really didn't mean that."

"I know. It's okay, we'll be okay. We're tired and stressed and scared. Lashing out will happen," Lassiter assures quietly. He nudges her forward when she stops to stare at Shawn who's standing at one of the doors, watching the dead, his shoulders tensed.

"He'll be okay."

Shawn doesn't look at them or say anything when they edge up right beside him. He automatically shifts closer to Lassiter to help support him though.

And that's enough.

* * *

"You know I'm not just going to stay in here and watch you both out there," Lassiter says firmly.

Juliet nods, eyes soft. She doesn't think she would be able to just watch the people she loves risk their lives either.

"Just stay against the wall. Don't get involved unless you need too," she agrees, watching Carlton's face closely for any indication that he's going to do something stupid.

"We ready then?" she asks her boys, her finger on the trigger.

And is it wrong if she's a little excited?

It feels like she's standing on the edge of somewhere too, too high; the same way she felt as she graduated high school and then later, the day she decided to accept the job in Santa Barbara and move across the country.

She kills her first zombie with a clean shot to the head, Shawn by her side and Lassiter at her back.

She looses track of the numbers shortly after this and soon enough she'll loose the thrill too.

She glances quickly back at Lassiter to make sure he's okay, careful not to turn her back on the dead that are still scrambling aimlessly to get in the car. He's supporting himself against the wall of the store, gun aimed at the zombie eagerly feeding on Shawn's kill from the day before.

A couple of the dead from the car are ambling slowly to her and Shawn now as if they realized that they were a better source of food. Do the dead have the capacity to learn?

Shawn shoots both of them, in quick succession, his hands and aim steady, not like yesterday. He looks so, so wrong like this with his mouth a tight line of anger and Carlton's 9mm Beretta.

"Make sure you don't shoot out any of the car windows," Juliet says to Shawn, moving around to get to the other side of the car.

She carefully shoots the one that's climbed half on top of the car, waits for it to slip motionlessly to the ground before shooting the other two. Moving closer, when one of them keeps twitching on the ground, she gets a better look at all three.

The twitching one looks somewhat familiar, the same time her brain reminds her that one of her neighbors back when she was living in an apartment complex moved out here. He fed her cats whenever she was stuck at the station too late. Gun raised, finger on the trigger, she shoots him and makes sure he's dead for real this time. Tells herself that it was her mind playing tricks on her.

_Early this morning, Shawn had said, "You know it's going to be people we know back at the station. We're going to have to kill people we spent the last seven years with. Can you do that?"_

But right now the same man is screaming at her, "Jules! Jules! You good over there?!" He sounds nearly hysterical, yelling in a gasping voice, like he's on the brink of a panic attack.

"Yeah!" She yells back as she makes a tense circle of the car coming back around to him and Lassiter.

Shawn's wiping a fine splatter of blood off his cheek with frenzied movements, clawing at his skin, chest heaving with each panicked inhale.

"Hey, hey. Shawn, it's okay," she assures, grabbing his hand and stilling it. Using her sleeve, she carefully cleans the blood from his face.

Lassiter's there suddenly too, looking at Shawn with a soft expression she's never seen him direct at anyone.

"It's just a little blood splatter. You're okay," Carlton says over her shoulder.

"Everything's okay, we're all okay. You need to breathe. Okay, slow, inhale, hold it and let go, hold it and let go," Juliet presses, cupping his clean cheek in her one hand, the other still wrapped around his hand. Her and Gus, and she supposes his parents too, are the only ones that know about Shawn's too frequent panic attacks.

"No, no, no." Shawn takes a jerky step back out of her grip, gaze wild.

"Why do you keep saying that?! It's not okay! None of this is okay! We're not okay and were not going to be!" Shawn yells at them.

Huffing, he continues, not yelling anymore just defeated, "How do you two think this is going to end? Don't lie, do not lie to me. We already know how this will end."

A pause. A shuddering breath.

"We're going to die. Maybe not today or even tomorrow but we're going to die," Shawn finishes.

Juliet wants to say something, anything but in her peripheral vision she can she something in Lassiter's expression and then he's speaking, "Damn it Spencer, you think we don't know that. So what? What difference does it make?"

Shawn's body sags and he breathes deeply just staring at them. He's relieved, she thinks.

Juliet approaches him slowly, like you would for a frightened animal. When he doesn't resist, she wraps her arms around him, tight, drawing into him close and waits for him to reciprocate. It only takes a moment.

"Right now, Shawn, we're okay," she whispers in his ear. He nods into her shoulder, whispers that he loves her.

God, she wishes love was enough.

"Ready?" Lassiter asks when she pulls away from Shawn, hands lingering on him.

Shawn steps away from her and straight into Lassiter, wraps his arms around the man. Lassiter's face cycles through surprise and confusion and then to something sad and soft.

He pats Shawn slowly, once, on the back.

Lassiter suddenly goes rigid, eyes blinking fast and ducks his face down onto Shawn's shoulder. She knows then, without any real proof just a knowledge of the person Shawn is, that Shawn has told Lassiter he loves him too.


End file.
